The Woman in the Red Dress
by jtav
Summary: Four years after an epidemic leaves them both widowed, Mako and Asami try to move on.


"Mako," Bolin said with a studied casualness he'd never been very good at, "have you considered dating again?"

Mako swallowed hard, and the alcohol burned going down his throat. "What?"

Bolin twittered nervously. "Opal worries about you. I told her you would take it at your own pace, but you didn't leave the house for six months and all you ever do now is work." His voice turned plaintive. "It's been four years."

Four years since the end of the world. Not just for him, but for millions. The Omashu Flu, the papers had called it. The disease had spread across the Earth Federation and United Republic, killing three million people over six months. Almost everyone had lost someone, and he and Bolin had lost more than most. Varrick and Zhu Li, Tenzin, Suyin. Even Korra, who had been trying her best to find a cure right up until the end. Princess Zura, youngest daughter of Fire Lord Izumi. His wife. And their three children.

"No, I really don't think about dating. I'm not good at dating." After the disasters that were his youthful relationships with Korra and Asami, he had been ready to give up on the project altogether. Then Zura had come with her fondness for the Fire Opera and for driving too fast, and he had been lost. "And I do too get out. I'm having lunch with Asami in an hour."

Bolin raised an eyebrow. "But when was the last time you did anything? I'm not expecting you to be Mr. Party Guy, but when was the last time you even went to that opera stuff?"

Mako didn't meet his eyes. They both knew the answer to that. Five years. Zura had gotten him hooked on the stuff. Him, the gruff, emotionally awkward police captain leaning over in his box with tears in his eyes as the starcrossed lovers pledged their eternal devotion. But after, well, after, every time he had looked at the golden façade of the opera house, he had seen Zura's mottled skin and heard Ling choking on his own blood.

"They wouldn't want you to torture yourself," Bolin said softly.

"They don't want anything; they're dead!" Mako snapped. He regretted the words as soon as he spoke them and Bolin flinched. "I don't know how to do this. It's not like I can expect another girl to hit me with her moped or ask me to save her from angry Red Monsoons."

"Dating service?"

Mako groaned.

"Just a suggestion."

"I am leaving for my lunch now."

It was a short walk to the restaurant. Mako found himself walking more and more as the years went by. He said it was better for his health as his police career turned into more and more of a desk job, but sometimes he wondered if he just liked the quiet anonymity of being another man on the street. His route took him by Republic City's columbarium. The city had had to enlarge it when the President had decreed that all bodies be burned as a safety measure, and the modern architecture clashed jarringly with the traditional Fire Nation ornate columns. Zura would have hated it. She was interred here, and so were Ling, Mai, and Rui. The first members of the Fire Nation royal family since Lu Ten to have their ashes buried so far from home.

Mako stopped. "What do you want me to do?" he whispered to the air.

But there was no answer. Just like the Avatar, his family had been reincarnated. They were all young children now and would only know of those terrible months through movers and stories their parents told. He wondered who Zura was now, what stories she would hear of them. They had seemed so romantic to everyone else, the princess who had given up her place in the line of succession to marry a mere police detective. A romantic fairytale with a happy ending.

Except there was no such thing as a happy ending. Everyone died. There was only happiness right now, in the moment.

He kept walking. Asami was waiting for him at their usual table. The years had been kinder to her than most. Her hair was still black and lustrous, and wrinkles were only beginning to etch themselves around her eyes. Her makeup was more subdued, light pink lipstick instead of cherry red and only a subtle eyeshadow, and she wore more grays and whites then she had when they were teenagers. But Mako was beginning to think Asami would find a way to make a burlap sack look elegant.

Her lips were pursed together and her eyes narrowed. Something had annoyed her, and she was trying not to show it. Her smile was tight when she saw him. "Mako." But when she hugged him, it was as bone-crushing as ever. Whatever was wrong had nothing to do with him.

He lasted until they were through with the salad course before his curiosity overcame him. "What's wrong?"

For a moment, Asami looked as if she wouldn't answer, but then she sighed. "Jinora. She and Kai are having another baby. They're going to name him Tenzin if it's a boy."

"That's great!" Mako frowned. "Isn't it?"

Asami brightened slightly. "It's wonderful." Her voice turned sad. "But Opal has been badgering me about getting out more. Even suggesting personal ads and dating services."

Mako bit back a laugh. "You too? Bolin's been doing the same to me. They mean well, but they're as pushy as Wu sometimes. Ignore them. Do what makes you happy." And she of all people deserved to be happy.

Asami took a long drink of her wine. "But I… I don't know what that is anymore. And when Jinora said she was having a baby…she lost her _father_. You should have seen her face when she told me. So happy. And if she can be happy after everything, why can't I?"

"You can." He wanted to cover her hand with his own, but wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. Twenty-five years after Korra had kissed him for the first time, Mako was still something of a coward.

"I waited for Korra after she was poisoned." Asami's voice was soft and wistful. "Even when she didn't write back, I kept hoping we could pick up where we left off. And we did. And we were happy. But the waiting, the grieving, the emptiness, were torture. If it hadn't been for you and your family, I don't know if I could have survived those three years. I don't want to get trapped again." It was Asami who covered his hand with hers. "I want to wear red dresses and go out dancing. I want to date again. And I don't know if it's right for me to want those things. I loved her so much and I survived when so many people didn't. Part of me thinks that ought to be enough."

"Korra wouldn't want you to tort—" Mako stopped that train of thought before he could put his foot entirely in his mouth. He cleared his throat. "When I was in Homicide, we investigated the murder of this lawyer. His wife actually met a guy at the funeral of all things, so my partner liked her for the murder. Turns out the lawyer had a heart attack. The woman was married to her second husband for twenty years and they had six children. If they can be happy, I don't think there's a script on the right way to grieve."

"Thank you." She smiled, and for a moment Mako could see an echo of the girl who had rendered him speechless. "I have no idea how to do this, you know. Dating, I mean."

"You did all right with me. I was the idiot." Idiot kid thinking with the wrong head who had been too scared to make his choice and too young to appreciate a girl who was patient and kind. She had found Korra and she had found Zura. He still loved Asami. His oldest friend. That he should have all that, even after losing so much, still felt like more than he deserved.

"You were a teenage boy."

"An _idiotic_ teenage boy." He smiled. "Go for it, Asami. Any guy or girl would be lucky to have you."

"Flatterer." She took another drink. "Still, it's been so long."

Mako stared at her. Asami was beautiful and wealthy and famous for all the good she had done for the world. She could have anyone she wanted with a snap of her fingers. And she was nervous. A stray thought struck him and escaped his mouth before he could stop it. "If I sign up for this dating service, will you? It could be a mutual support thing. Like a—" He fumbled for the right metaphor and found nothing. "A thing."

"So we get together and complain about the crazy people we meet?" She looked at him. "Are you ready for that?"

"I don't think there is a 'ready' for this. If it helps you, I'll do it." He forced a smile. "We have to get Bolin and Opal off our backs somehow."

"All right." She lifted her glass in toast. "To one last foolish adventure. One last love affair."

Mako made it halfway home before he collapsed against a wall. What had he done? Pretended he was ready to move on with his life for Asami's sake. Agreed to try dinner and dancing with a stranger in hopes that lightning would strike once again. Try for a bit of fun when so many of those he loved were dead. _Ingrate,_ whispered a voice in his head. _Fool. Monster._

He found himself walking back to columbarium. The interior was cool and quiet, the only sound his boots as they echoed on the marble floor. It was midday on a workday, but Mako spotted a few elderly people he thought he recognized among the rows and rows of niches and marble plaques. None had been spared, but this strain of influenza had been perverse in how it had felled the young and healthy and left parents to bury their children. Mako stopped until he found the niche he was looking for. There was no ostentation, nothing to mark the royal blood of those buried here. Just names and dates.

ZURA

153-191

LING

183-191

MAI

186-191

RUI

188-191

Mako traced his fingers over the character of his wife's name, then his children. He bowed his head. "I love you guys. Always will." He hoped he was doing the right thing. As much as he had told Asami there was no right way to grieve, there was also no script for being the last one left. "I just want to make things easier for her." And if loving again still seemed an impossibility, would it be so wrong to do what Bolin wanted and just get out more? To make some memories that weren't tainted?

Mako looked up and saw Asami at another niche. There was a memorial for Korra beneath her statue of the park, but everyone was equal here. He wondered if Asami was seeking her own absolution for what she was about to do. He knew what Korra would have said if he could have summoned her spirit. _Live again. I love you. I want you to be happy._ Finding the path to that fleeting happiness was as treacherous as climbing a mountain. But still, he wanted it for Asami.

And for her, he would pretend he could find it for himself.

* * *

Her name was Yue, she said, after the princess. She was forty-three, like him, but had never been married. She had come to the city six months earlier to become the society columnist for the _Republic City Sun._ "I've been called tabloid slime and worse, but the people have a right to know about the movers and shakers of the city."

Mako shifted uncomfortably. Three years of bodyguard duty for a prince and having Korra and Asami for friends had made him a little wary of the press. "I hope I'm not considered one of your movers and shakers."

"I don't know. Rumor has it that you're up for chief after Song retires next year." She laughed, light and airy. "Don't worry. This is strictly-is that Asami Sato?"

Mako turned as the door to the club opened, and his mouth went dry. It was Asami, in a bright, brilliant red dress. Not the red dresses she had worn to Tarrlok's party or to Varrick and Zhu's wedding, but she blazed amid a sea of blacks, whites, and dull golds. Ruby earrings dangled in her ears, and golden bracelets shone on her wrists. Her hair was down, falling in elegant waves to her back. Heads turned as she passed, and a low murmur broke out. She looked like an empress, returning to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

Yue's eyes were bright. "I'll be right back. Order drinks for me?"

"Wait, what?"

But Yue was already out of her seat and making a beeline for Asami's table. Oh no. Mako scurried after her, but was a few steps too slow. Yue was hovering over Asami's table like a vulture-hawk. "Ms. Sato? Yue, _Republic City Sun_. Do you have a few moments?"

Asami gave her the small, false smile she used for troublesome vendors. "I'm actually here to meet someone. If you'll excuse—"

But Yue's bright blue eyes were glittering now. "Anybody I know?"

And finally, finally Mako caught up to her. "Yue, that's enough. We came here for drinks and dancing, not work."

Yue glared at him. "But Asami Sato is dressed like that for the first time in years. That's a _story_."

"You're a journalist?" Asami's voice was polished and sharp as diamond. "Then I would expect you to have a better sense of occasion. You're here for Mako, who is one of the most thoroughly decent and courageous men I've ever known. And you would prefer to talk about _my_ social life? I am dressed up. I've always enjoyed fashion. But not for the benefit of people like you."

Yue recoiled and looked almost sheepish. "Mako, what do you say we hit the bar?"

Mako looked from Yue to Asami. "Actually, I don't think it's going to work out. But feel free to have a few drinks."

Yue flushed, but her stare was icy. "I agree. I don't think this is going to work out. No sense in wasting time." Mako watched as she collected her things and marched for the door, eyes straight ahead. And now he could feel the stares on him.

Heat spread on his cheeks. "I really am terrible at this. Five minutes and I've already run her off." Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

Asami smiled at him, large and warm and without a trace of condescension. "It just means that you're a good judge of character and you know what you want. Thanks, by the way. I thought I was going to have to break the glove out."

"What are friends for?" Mako processed what Asami had said and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You have your glove in your purse?"

"Always. Better to have it than not need it. Besides, blind date. You can never be too careful, right?" Asami shivered and Mako saw the cracks in her glamorous façade. She was nervous and uncertain as he was.

"It'll be fine," he murmured over the brassy tune the band was playing. "I still have my table for the next two hours. Want me to stick around and growl at whoever it is in case they're a jerk?"

"Her name is Rei. And you should stick around anyway. The elephant-koi is excellent. But thank you."

Mako smiled and returned to his table. Yet another abortive, disastrous romance. At least he hadn't dragged this one out for months before it died a merciful death. Asami was right. The elephant-koi was excellent. Between Asami and Zura, he had developed a taste for the finer things in life. He could still enjoy that.

But as the night went on, his gaze returned to Asami. Beautiful, elegant, and very much alone. She kept her back straight and her gaze fixed as she kept sending the waiter away, handing him increasingly larger tips. Attention returned to her and Mako caught bits of whispered gossip.

"Poor thing's been stood up."

"Well, how can you expect anyone to compete with the Avatar?"

Mako had had enough. He marched back over to Asami's table as she finished another glass of wine. "I think we can skip straight to the commiserating," she said with a sharp laugh.

"Rei doesn't know what she's missing."

"Well, look who's gotten smooth in his old age." Her voice turned wistful as her smile faltered. "I just wanted dinner, drinks, and dancing."

"And to wear a red dress, if I remember right." Mako looked her up and down and there was a clenching in his chest. Heat spiraled through him. He hadn't felt that way towards her for over twenty years. They were better as friends and they both knew that. But she was still a beautiful woman, and he was only a man. "Which you very much have."

She beamed at him. "You like it."

"I do." When asked later, Mako would never be able to explain why he did what he did next. Maybe it was the alcohol leaving him buzzed and reckless. Maybe he was still annoyed with Yue. Maybe it was that the band was just finishing their number. Whatever the reason, he stood and offered her his hand. "As for the rest, we've had the dinner and drinks. All that's left is the dancing. May I, Ms. Sato?"

Asami looked at him as if he had been possessed by a particularly ugly spirit. "Mako?"

"May I have this dance?" he repeated. "I have had to go to a few embassy parties over the years. I think I still remember how to do a box step."

For several seconds, Asami said nothing. Mako felt very small and very nervous in a way that he told himself shouldn't have been possible. But then Asami threw back her head and was once again the girl who drove racecars and piloted planes and faced down terrorists. "I'd love to." She took his hand in hers, and Mako stepped onto the dance floor for the first time in years.

He had been right; he hadn't forgotten how to dance. Neither had she. The song the band played was slow, with more strings than were popular these days. Something about lost love and regret. He supposed everyone in the room could empathize with that. He let Asami and the music carry him away. The world narrowed to the feel of his hand on her waist, the pale green of her eyes, and the pleasure of graceful music. He was alive, and just now, that was a blessing.

The song ended, and they pulled apart. Asami's cheeks were flushed with alcohol, exertion, and happiness. "Thank you," she whispered as the band struck up another tune. "Care for another?"

"Yes." Mako smiled. "I very much think I do."

They stayed on the dance floor half the night, long after patrons ten years their junior had retired back to their tables or left altogether. But eventually, his legs and arms were sore, and Mako was reminded there would still be paperwork to do and cases to supervise in the morning. "I need to turn for the night."

"I'll call someone for you. And me."

Fifteen minutes later, they were picked up by a Future Industries chauffeur who mercifully asked no questions. The stars were barely visible against Republic City's skyline, but there was enough light to give Asami's skin a faintly silvery glow. More than beautiful. Otherworldly. "Thank you," she said. "This could have been humiliating, but you made it wonderful. I danced!" Her eyes were bright, and it was more than the alcohol. As if she were a little girl getting away with something.

"Keep thinking me like that and I'm going to blush." Dancing, the buzz of the alcohol, the lamplight casting brief shadows on her skin as they sped past, it all felt unreal. He felt like a younger man, one who still had some hope and possibility before him. He could see the pedestrians on the sidewalk rushing past. The women's hemlines scandalously short and the men wearing "triad chic" jewelry. Republic City had celebrated its survival by becoming wilder and more reckless, but it had survived. And so had he. "It was nice."

"It was." Asami bit her lip in thought. "I don't know if I'm ready for more blind dates and getting stood up, but it was good to get out. I still get complimentary passes to the probending matches. And they're finally going to be having a Four Elements division. Want to go?"

Another thing he hadn't done in years. "Sure. Any idea what the rules for airstrikes are going to be?"

They rest of the ride enmeshed in a slightly-drunken discussion of pro bending rules, and Mako almost didn't notice when the car pulled up to his house. It was sturdy red brick with a large yard that had once been immaculately landscaped, but was beginning to be untidy. He got out the car and stood unsteadily. Next time he wouldn't drink so much.

To his surprise, Asami joined him. "Just want to make sure you get in." They walked together slowly, and Mako told himself it was because of all the drinking. Neither of them wanted to fall. But as Asami turned to face him, Mako's throat went dry again. She looked as if she were going to say something, but abruptly closed the distance between them. The kiss was soft and closemouthed, chaste even. It sent a jolt through Mako worse than the alcohol. His arms came around her waist again as they had on the dance floor and he kissed her back. She didn't feel at all like she did when they were teenagers. Or like Korra. Or like Zura. This was something new. Quiet. And so he held her and breathed in the scent of honeysuckle. A good, clean, live scent.

Asami pulled back first. Her eyes were glittering and there was no embarrassment on her face as she traced his lips with her fingers. "I've missed this. Good night, Mako." She gave him a last peck on the lips. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Mako stumbled through the door into the darkened foyer. His house was cold, and he shivered again for reasons that had nothing to do with the kiss. The kiss. Asami had kissed him. A real kiss, like the ones she'd given him when they were dating. And he had enjoyed it. He mounted the stairs to the second floor bedrooms. Not his own, but the three they had been sealed ever since Ling's first chills. It had everything an eight-year-old boy could ask for. Posters of Captain Lightning, Defender of the Fire Nation. The remains of the chemistry set he had gotten on his last birthday. A carefully made bed decked out in red and gold. He could almost see Ling rushing toward him.

 _"Daddy! You're home! Did you catch any bad guys?_

 _"Some." Mako knelt to hug his son. "How was school?"_

 _"Fine. Aunt Asami came to science class. Are they really going to put someone on the moon?"_

 _"So she tells me." It was years away, but the polymers she had invented alone promised to transform the world as much as spirit energy had._

 _"I want to go."_

 _"Maybe you will someday."_

 _There was an explosion from somewhere in the backyard. Zura appeared a moment later, elegantly dressed as ever, but grinning like a child. "Darling, you'd better come. I think our daughter is a combustion bender."_

 _Mako shrugged and put his son down. "And here I thought I had a normal family."_

 _"Yes, the disinherited princess and her bodyguard were going to produce perfectly normal children." She smiled at him. "You wouldn't have it any other way."_

Mako blinked and was back in the present. The bedroom stood silent and as empty as ever. Future Industries had never made it to the moon as the influenza had ravaged half the world. The disease had killed so many more dreams than just his. "I don't know what to do," he said to nothing in particular. "I liked dancing and I liked kissing her, but I really do love you. And I was such an idiot before. I just want to do right by you and be happy for a little while. Is that wrong?"

But as usual, there was no answer. He would be left to solve this mystery alone.

* * *

By unspoken, mutual consent, he and Asami didn't discuss the kiss again. But if the lunch dates lingered for longer than they once did or they were frequently seen together at the arena or atnightclubs, if she squeezed his hand under the table whenever someone proposed yet another memorial fund, Mako was content with that. Asami continued wearing her brilliant red dresses, and he didn't have to wrestle with his duties to the living and the dead.

"You look happy," Bolin said one day as they stood in the park watching his and Opal's children play.

"I am happy," he said.

"And the fact that Asami also looks happy is completely a coincidence?"

"Completely."

"And the two of you making the society pages every week?"

"Yue needs something to write about." Mako wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Is this going somewhere, bro?"

"Nowhere, nowhere at all." Bolin looked away and spoke very rapidly. "I'm just thinking that if you're planning on kissing another girl while not dating her, you should tell her."

"Who isn't dating who?" Asami asked as she approached. She wore her normal business attire, and her hair was pinned up, but her lips were the color of cherries.

"Nothing. Nobody is dating anybody!" Bolin turned a deep red. "Hey, kids, come say hello to your Aunt Asami."

Asami knelt in the grass, heedless of the damage to her clothes and good-naturedly endured mobbing by five children. "Aunt Asami, my teacher says you're coming to school tomorrow. Are you going to be talking about something cool?"

She pretended to think. "That depends… are rockets cool?"

"You mean like the ones in the movers?" Little Lin's eyes were as wide as saucers. "They're the coolest things ever!"

She endured a few more minutes of jabbering questions before Bolin mercifully came to her rescue. "All right, guys. Let your Aunt Asami up. I'm sure she and Uncle Mako have things to do." He flashed Mako a thumbs-up sign and winked. "Who wants ice cream?"

Asami brushed the grass from her skirt. "What was that about?" she asked when they were alone.

"Just Bolin being Bolin." He cast around for some other, less awkward,d topic of conversation. "Wu and Tu dumped some concert tickets on me. Do we go or tell them that the badgermoles are the only ones who enjoy Wu's singing?"

Asami didn't laugh at his joke, but shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Mako put his fingers under her chin and tilted it upwards to look her in the eye. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly." She took a deep breath. "I just found out I that have a business function, and I need a date that isn't you."

Mako forced himself not to flinch. Of course she would want an actual date, a lover. Not this…whatever they were because he was still too much of a coward to decide one way or the other. "I hope you find someone really great. You deserve to be happy." He hoped he sounded sincere.

"What?" Asami's eyes widened in surprise. "No." She took his hand and traced the scars on his knuckles and down the back of his hand. "These past few weeks have been amazing. But those rockets I'm talking to Lin's class about? There's a reason. The Premier of Omashu is in town, and she's shown some interest in a joint Earth Federation—United Republic space program. Putting a man on the moon within a decade. And I want Future Industries in on it." Her eyes were bright and shining with some fever dream. "Everything I had to put on hold when the influenza hit, I could have another chance at."

"That's great." Mako hugged her. Another chance for people to go to the stars, to do all those things once thought impossible or impious. Korra would have been so proud of Asami. She had wanted to be the first one up in a rocket, always looking for new adventures now that the world was mostly stable. "But what does that have to do with you needing another date?"

"The Republic and Omashu are still in negotiations, which means I need to wine and dine the premier when she visits next week. And she wants to see a Fire Opera while she's here. We have box seats for _The Taking of Whaletail Island."_

Oh. The story of the doomed romance between a Fire Nation soldier and an Air Nomad. It had been one of Zura's favorites. And if he couldn't sit through any opera, there was no chance he would get through that one. Asami was being kind to him. She really should find someone else who could give her everything she wanted.

 _"I want to go."_ Mako froze. He had been asking for a sign, hadn't he? Maybe this was it. No whispered voice, just a dream that Asami and the rest of the world had kept putting off. He could see in that moment two paths laid out before him. One where he kept dithering as he always had, trapped by grief and fear where his house stayed lonely and silent. Where he never attended another opera. And another more frightening path that led to something he could hardly recognize. But it had music and it had Asami.

Mako made his decision. "You can take me."

"You're sure?"

"I'm not sure about anything." His lips brushed against hers with the barest of pressure. "But I want to try."

* * *

Mako tied his tie in front of the mirror and tried not to throw up. He could do this. It was the opera. He liked the opera. He wanted to move on with his life. Asami was counting on him. If he backed out now, he would be the same unreliable, selfish coward he had been as a teenager. He still wanted to throw up.

"Mako, are you ready?" Asami.

The decision had been made. "Coming."

Asami was as ravishing as ever. Her hair had been tied into an elegant bun that set off her high cheekbones and made him want desperately to pull the pins from her hair. Her perfume was strong and flowery. And the red, always the red that made her look like the most vital thing in the room. Mako sucked in a breath.

Her eyes glittered, and he realized she was laughing at him. "At least I chose the right dress." She extended a hand and he came to her. "Whatever happens…" She shook her head. "I hope you have a good time tonight."

The opera house was built in a prewar style by those who were determined to prove that the upstart United Republic could be just as cultured as the Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation. Golden columns flanked great bronze doors festooned with dragons, and a great golden dome towered over the surrounding buildings. It was all a bit too much, architecture critics said. Backwater colonists trying to pretend to be what they weren't. Maybe that was why Mako had liked the place so much.

His heart hammered with every step of the grand staircase that would lead them to the boxes. So many memories in this place. Zura dragging him by the hand, swearing up and down that he would actually like that "screeching for rich people" if he just tried it. Having to discreetly wipe tears from his eyes at the end of the third act. Lin doubling over laughing when she'd spotted him at intermission. Mai falling asleep in his arms when their babysitter had canceled at the last minute.

Asami tightened her grip on his arm. "It's all right," she whispered.

An entourage of people wearing the green and yellow livery of Omashu were waiting for them at the top of the stairs. "Ms, Sato, Master Mako, right this way. The premier is waiting for you."

The Premier of Omashu was about ten years his senior and reminded him vaguely of a blend of Lin and Izumi. Her hair was short and iron gray, her features severe. But her eyes were bright, and there were laugh lines around her mouth. She shook their hands. "I've heard so much about you both. A pleasure to meet you at last."

"Likewise." Asami was in full charm mode, her voice just the right mix of smooth and sincere. "And I'm hoping Future Industries will be able to assist Omashu, the Earth Federation, and the Republic in our mutual dream of space exploration."

"You did get quite far with that, didn't you? And Avatar Korra was quite enthusiastic about the venture." She fiddled with the ring on her left hand. "We lost so much in the epidemic. I thought Omashu would never recover. But here we are, somehow." She straightened. "I appreciate you indulging me tonight. I'm only familiar with the old Earth Kingdom style of performance, but I've always wanted to broaden my horizons. I'm not entirely sure what to expect though."

"Well, the orchestra is a little bigger." Mako found himself speaking before he quite realized it. "Fire Nation composers tended for a more sweeping, epic sound. The role types are a little more rigid, but singers don't stay at the top of their register as much."

The premier looked at him with obvious interest. "Are you a connoisseur of the opera them?"

"I was." He exchanged glances with Asami, who smiled at him. "I guess I still am." And so Mako found himself giving an impromptu musical theory and history lesson until a hush finally swept over the audience and the opera began.

The music was, as promised, sweeping. The plot was a little hackneyed, but Zura had told him that nobody went to Fire Operas for the plots. The music… Mako forgot to be afraid. Fire Lords an peasants, princesses and merchants, had been transported by the soaring arias. It didn't matter that he had been a thief and a street rat; he was part of something that transcended time, nation, and class.

 _"You see darling, it belongs as much to you as it does to me. Centuries after we're gone, the music will remain."_

They came to the Air Nomad girl's first great aria, the one where she dreamed of a life beyond the harsh strictures of the temple and asked the spirits to free her. The young Fire Nation soldier who had washed up on the shore. Love at first sight. Horror as each found out they were the hated enemy. The great love duet where he offered to betray the Fire Nation if only she would come away with them.

 _Oh, my love, you are more precious than my honor._

 _Ask it, and I will throw myself into the volcano on your command._

 _Zura snickered behind her hand. "And that giving up everything business is supposed to be romantic? Give me a man who remembers my birthday over that kind of melodrama."_

 _Mako frowned in confusion._ _"But you gave up everything for me. Sort of."_

 _"A crown I was never going to inherit anyway? I traded one life for another. I like this life. Especially because it has you in it. But I'm just not the type to throw myself into a volcano over anyone. Sorry, darling. I like living too much."_

Mako trembled. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Living. Zura had liked _living._ "It would be all right then?"

The Head Nun was singing, futilely warning her student of the disaster she courted.

 _Beware, my student, of passion._

 _It makes us forget ourselves and blocks the path of enlightenment_

 _And pleasures more mundane._

The lights came up for intermission, and the crowd was released from the spell the music had woven over them. Mako stayed in his seat, unable to move. Was the answer here in the very thing he had been avoiding all this time?

Asami touched his shoulder, concern etched on her face. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." No, not fine. He needed…he needed… "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

The premier looked from him to Asami, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Ms. Sato, perhaps you should retire for the evening? I appreciate the introduction to the Fire Opera, but I believe there are more important things going on. And if we're going to be partners, my Science and Economic Ministries will need time to formulate our deal points."

Asami blinked. "Pardon me?"

"I have no wish to start from scratch. We need to build on what we had before. And I've seen your old designs. They were brilliant. There are weeks, perhaps months, of negotiation ahead of us, but I suspect that we'll be working together very soon. Now, see to your friend before he passes out."

Asami led him out of the box, past the throng of people, and into the parking lot. She was shaking too. "What do you want?" Her voice was a whisper.

Mako kissed her. He was sober this time, maybe more clearheaded than he had ever been in his life, and he could feel everything. Her lips were soft under his and her arms came around his neck and pulled him closer. Her tongue probed gently past his lips. Mako moaned. He hadn't had the words for it before, but now he understood. Asami kissed like an engineer. Constantly shifting and adjusting in an effort to make them both feel good. He had forgotten how good this could feel, just losing himself in the pleasure of a kiss. It felt decadent and wasteful, but he no longer had strength to resist.

She pulled back and buried her nose in his neck. "That was good," she murmured against him. "I've wanted to do that for a while, but I wasn't sure—"

"I wasn't sure either." He stroked her neck. "You want this? With me?"

"Yes." Her voice was like a sigh.

Asami looked up at him. "Home?" Her voice was low and husky, full of dark and delicious promises. "You've been dying to unpin my hair all night. I'd hate to disappoint you." Her playful, seductive tone was gone as quickly as it had arrived. "If that's what _you_ want. If you'd rather go back to the show, I understand."

"I want you." His voice sounded unnaturally loud in the darkness. "Just you." He laughed, and the sound was strange, but he felt like chains were being loosed from his body. "Besides, I think we'll get the chance to see plenty."

Later, Mako curled against Asami's sleeping form and listened to the sound of her breathing. Her long, loose, lustrous hair tickled his skin. It was very strange how things worked out. If someone had told him the day Asami had hit him with her moped that his life would take the path it had, he would have laughed them out of the room. But for all the loss he had suffered, he couldn't regret it. There really were no happy endings. But that just meant that you had to seize each rare moment of. He had not known what he had when he was a boy, but now he was determined to hold all he loved close. now He kissed the top of her forehead. _For as long as you permit me to have you, I will try to make you happy._

His dreams that night were not of ghosts, but of the future.


End file.
